i hold hope like water; any

[rapt]

there is a dream in the space between the hammer and the nail ------ the dream of about-to-be-hit, which is a bad dream ------------ but the nail will take the hit if it gets to sleep inside the wood forever He seeks peace, yet couldn’t define it, if asked. He certainly felt peace when he knelt before that monster, peace in the knowledge that this was his purpose to serve, to be used, to be fodder for things so much greater than he. There was peace to it, and happiness, feeling vital. And he felt peace when it was him and his son, alone together, talking about any manner of things. It was so different, but such a similar feeling – that this was a purpose. He doesn’t know of the other stallion’s love for chaos, of his misdeeds. He only knows him as a stranger in the meadow. So he smiles, polite. “You’re a king, then? Of where?” he asks. He’d been son of a prince, though Caius had never ascended to anything higher – bloodlines no longer dictated the rulers of kingdoms, which was surely a good thing (Caius would have made a poor ruler, and Rapt himself an even worse one). Perhaps he should know – but Rapt cares not for politics, he’s only distantly aware of the kingdoms and their ever-changing rulers, he has never made it his business to know who rules where. rapt caius x else